


put to good use

by gabriphales



Series: gomens drabble hell [10]
Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Aziraphale Has a Vulva (Good Omens), M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Plushophilia, im worshipping at my boys pussy altar
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-26
Updated: 2020-03-26
Packaged: 2021-02-28 19:35:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 905
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23332474
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gabriphales/pseuds/gabriphales
Summary: aziraphale has a sentimental wank while his boyfriend's are away. the sentimentality comes, in part, from what he uses to get himself off
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley/Gabriel (Good Omens)
Series: gomens drabble hell [10]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1664713
Comments: 2
Kudos: 60





	put to good use

**Author's Note:**

> michael sheen im so fucking sorry

aziraphale's embarrassed. distantly, very distantly, he knows he shouldn't be. knows that he's adjusted to a cozy existence with two lovers at home, always tending to one another. naturally, having them both out of the house at once would upset anybody's natural balance--their grip on things. it's not his fault, he's simply missing them. that's normal, it's _normal_ , it must be. 

there's nothing wrong with him, his ticks and fidgets are only a symptom of empty hands, and an even emptier bed, waking up in the morning by himself. he's lonely, and plenty of people get lonely. certainly angels, they're often some of the loneliest souls he's ever met.

even so, this is just _embarrassing_. there's no better term for it. no polite, delicate terminology that will sooth the shame he's buckled-knees deep in. his body needs this, he knows it does. but no amount of self-introspection could quell his utter _humiliation_. at the very least, he's glad nobody can see him like this. in such a ruddy, flushed state.

rolling on his side, he digs around for something in the comforters. searching between piles upon piles of quilts, and only slightly cursing himself for his predilection for comfort.

"there you are," aziraphale mumbles, finally having claimed his prize. the plush, fluffy stuffed bear locked within his grasp seems to stare back at him. glass, vacant eyes somehow seething with judgement, anticipation of what was to come. he doesn't know why he's talking to it, really. perhaps in a halfhearted attempt at stroking his own nerves, he keeps up with his efforts. 

"ah, my ap-apologies for what you'll come to endure this--this evening." he says, eyes flitting to the silken sheets, now avoiding the bear's non-existent gaze. 

"i suppose i should say thank you." he chews at his inner cheek, teeth grinding anxiously.

"still, better to get it over with now than--than to prolong the process, er--"

his eyes squeeze shut, too mortified to bear the burden of observation as he shuffles the toy between his legs. there's a gentle pulsing already starting to beat there, his cunt weakly piquing in interest, still just as drowsy as the rest of his body.

it's a matter of association. crowley and gabriel had banded together, bought the blasted thing behind his back. as a gift, they'd explained. something about anniversaries, which matter quite a bit less when you're millenia old. aziraphale usually relies on it when he's weaning himself off the lack of their presence(s). coddling the bear as a manner of coddling himself.

he thinks of them when he's got it in his arms. surely, pressed between his thighs ought to have the same effect.

"crowley," he sighs, trying to shift into any sort of fantasy where he _doesn't_ have to face the fact he's currently humping a literal teddy bear.

"c- _crowley,_ please, 'm all--all ready for you."

and the bear, as expected, says nothing in reply. aziraphale is thankful for the wordless silence, he doesn't think he could survive anyone speaking to him in his current state.

he wants penetration. he's clenching from the simple thought alone, cunt spasming as he rocks his hips just that little bit harder, whining pitifully. he's so empty, so wet and overheated. the slick that's sticking to the insides of his thighs is a testament to his depravity. how easily he can get off, even when the only tools at his disposal are an absolute tarnishing of innocence.

innocence. _innocent._ oh, oh he _likes_ being innocent. his belly warms over, chest spiking with the pleasant thrum of his own racing heartbeat. his legs start to quiver, and he shuffles himself so that the toy's muzzle might press directly into his clit. soft, ticklish. it's silky fur stained with the proof of his arousal.

his mind's starting to wander. entertaining himself with imagery of another world, another lover. one who's all too happy to indulge aziraphale's insatiable imagination, playing into every fantasy where he was simply _helpless_. unable to comprehend the lengths of his own pleasures, though still absolutely _burning up_ with them.

"gabriel-- _o-oh_." he gasps, enamored with the sound of his lilted, sheepish whimpers. he really would make quite a skilled actor, he believes.

"gabriel, it's so--it feels so-- _mmph_ , it _hurts_." aziraphale whimpers, grinding his clit within tight enough proximity to the toy that it pressed back against his pubic bone. a delightful pressure, hard enough to make his thighs tremble and jump, stomach muscles clenching.

"i can't make it stop, it's so hot, so hot--gabriel, _please_."

he's cumming within the next few seconds. riding out the duration of his orgasm, and stroking the remnants of his weary, worn-down desire with thoughts of what _they_ might say to him, were they here right now. how would they work him through it? 

would crowley hold him from behind, keeping him in place despite his desperate squirming? would those long, delightfully sharp close in around his chest, pricking at his nipples-- _pinching,_ even.

would gabriel continue pressing into his weak, willing body? taking advantage of his exhaustion to keep fucking him, rocking him with his thrusts, until he was gasping out for it to stop, _too much, too much_.

more tired than when he woke up, aziraphale collapses onto the bed. shivering, coated in his own sweat, and pulling the covers up for shelter. 

decidedly, he'll be sleeping in this morning.

**Author's Note:**

> u ever just regret writing smth but also dont


End file.
